Hello Friend,
I have been thinking about all the ways that I have allowed the idea of perfection to get in my way. Growing up, my parents praised being able to draw or cut in a perfectly straight line (which I still can’t do), and rather viciously pointed out the “imperfections” and “inaccuracies” in my art and school work. My dad liked to tell me that if he even put a stamp on a letter that wasn’t perfectly straight, he would be punished by his mother. (what the actual F?!) When I said I wanted to be an artist when I grew up, they told me to pick something more realistic, something that would “actually make money.”
As a therapized adult, I know they were doing their best, repeating how they were raised, and maybe even thinking they were lovingly correcting me, so I wouldn’t go out in the world thinking it was okay for houses to drastically lean to one side, or dogs to have two tails. Despite learning to have empathy and awareness for them and myself, I still find myself having to fight back the perfection demon, who frankly is a real drag.
Needing an outlet for these feelings, I imagined a “Perfection Mountain,” where no matter how high you climb, or how many obstacles you overcome, you can never get to perfection.
I taped a big sheet of paper to the wall. I let myself create a colorful rocky terrain, putting all of my frustrations into these rocks.
When I got to the top, I drew a flag and wrote what I thought said “Perfection.” I left the painting up and the next day, looked at it again and realized I had forgotten the letter “c,” so it actually said “Perfetion.” I burst out in half laughter/half yelp. How hilarious, I thought. What an idiot I am, I thought.
I immediately crammed in a small “c” to fix it. Phew. It’s kind of cute this way, and funny and ironic. Good, I saved it.
I took a step back and then started to cry. It had actually been a pretty great visual representation of my original point. Why didn’t I leave it that way? What was wrong with me? I felt sorry all over again for the little girl I had been who wanted to be an artist. I felt sorry for my adult self who wished there was a way to be perfectly healed. Now I was on a full hamster wheel - judging myself for being imperfect, judging myself for not being wise and gracious while being imperfect, and judging myself for not being evolved enough to immediately embrace imperfection.
After some time, I stepped off the wheel, dried my tears, and started to see the humor in the whole situation. I remembered another thing that I try to remind myself of when I’m making art or just in life in general - the journey is the destination. What a great journey! What highs! What lows! How great it is to be alive! Art really is amazing and I’m so grateful for all of the lessons and surprises that I get along the way.
Hope you’re having a wonderful week being exactly who you are.
xo
Tanya